


(It Was) More Than A Feeling

by littlesnowpea



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Empath, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowpea/pseuds/littlesnowpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon isn’t really sure how it happened. If anyone were to ever ask, he’d stare blankly because he genuinely has no answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(It Was) More Than A Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea of Brendon being an empath from an anon on tumblr. I asked to use it to write this fic and they said yes. So here it is.
> 
> Don't own anything. Please don't sue. I am so broke.
> 
> Also, first bandom fic! Enjoy~

Brendon isn’t really sure how it happened. If anyone were to ever ask, he’d stare blankly because he genuinely has no answer.

_(Spencer says that Brendon’s always been kind of in tune with people’s emotions- that he knew the split was going to happen the day it happened before Spencer had even said a thing. That he knew his parents were going to kick him out months in advance. He could tell Pete and Ashlee were going to divorce before anyone else did, including Pete and Ashlee._

_Brendon personally thinks that those are terrible examples, seeing as how all of them seemed really, really obvious to anyone with working eyes, but he keeps it to himself.)_

So he’s really not sure _how_ it happened, but he sure as hell remembers the first _time_ it happened. It totally could have been avoided, too, if Brendon had gotten off his high horse for like five seconds and called Zack to pick him up from the bar instead of choosing to walk to the hotel. 

But he didn’t call Zack and he did walk and that’s how he found himself clutching at his head, half collapsed on the sidewalk, as furious voices filled his mind and swirling anger settled in his chest for no reason at all. He wanted to punch, to kick, to scream, and he also recognized how fucking _terrified_ he was because, seriously, what the hell?? He was fine ten seconds ago and now he tasted rage, like hot metal in his mouth and it’s an emotion he didn’t want to feel and he had no idea why he feels.

 

He blindly reached for his phone, dropping it from his shaking hands several times before holding it steady in front of him. Looking at the screen was like looking at the surface of the fucking sun, and he thought he was going to be sick.

“Spencer,” he gasped when the line connected. “Spencer, I need help, I really need help-”

The fury inside him mounted suddenly as the door to the bar was flung open and the bouncer threw two swearing men out and began _yelling_ at them, what the fuck. Brendon thought his head was legitimately going to split the fuck open if people didn’t _calm the fuck down_ in two fucking seconds. 

Brendon groaned.

“Dude,” the bouncer seemed to have noticed Brendon huddling on the sidewalk, holding his head pathetically. “Dude, are you alright?”

Brendon couldn’t answer, just shook his head because the men, the angry men, had begun bickering again and fresh waves of fury were boiling inside and pushing at his skull. He realized that he a tear slipped free and he sort of wanted to pass out.

“Do you need an ambulance?” Brendon dimly heard the bouncer ask, but he couldn’t work his muscles anymore, he felt like he was drowning in this emotion that wasn’t fucking his, and the bouncer swore before running feet stop his shouts for someone to call 911.

“He’s with me, he’s with me,” Spencer, _Spencer_ , thank fucking god, and Zack’s deep rumble joined Spencer’s as they tried to convince the bouncer that Brendon was fine.

“ _No_ ,” Brendon wanted to tell them, if he could figure out how to move his fucking body again. He wasn’t alright, he was fucking drowning and, seriously, if he could just move.....

“I’m-” Spencer said suddenly, and Brendon sort of realized Spencer had been kneeling in front of him for the past few minutes. “I’m not actually sure he’s fine, Zack, seriously, look!”

“That’s what I was telling you!” the bouncer cut Spencer off. “I found him out here, collapsed, clutching his head, and he can’t talk. I don’t know if he’s drunk or what but I’m pretty sure he needs a doctor, now.”

Panic was beginning to replace the fury, and while the headache sort of begun to ebb away with the anger, his heart sped up dramatically and he didn’t think he could breathe right anymore.

“Holy shit,” Spencer mumbled, and Zack was calling an ambulance in the background. “Brendon, Brendon, what the hell happened? Can you hear me?”

Brendon couldn’t reply, couldn’t get enough air, he was panicking and freaking out, and oddly enough- he knew he wasn’t actually the one feeling it.

He passed out with Spencer’s emotions swirling within him.  
\--

So yeah.

That was the first time it became A Thing. After the ambulance ride that Brendon doesn’t remember, he spent a couple days in the hospital on Ativan. The doctor initially thought Brendon was having a life-threatening panic attack, but when the panic subsided and Brendon still felt random snatches of emotion- annoyance from the nurse dealing with a leering patient, the sadness of a family on the floor above as they wait for news, the worry of Spencer as he refuses to leave Brendon’s side- well.

“Has this ever happened before?” the doctor finally, finally asked, peering at Brendon. Brendon shook his head and winced when it did his headache no favors.

“Not like this,” he finally managed to say, swallowing dryly. 

“What do you mean?” the doctor questioned. “You mean it’s never been this bad or you’ve never experienced anything like this ever?”

“A little of both?” Brendon tried. He couldn’t really explain it. This theme wasn’t new. “I’ve never had this happen before. But-”

“You’ve felt what someone else is feeling before?” the doctor finished questioningly. Brendon nodded slightly. The doctor sighed.

“Cognitive empathy,” she finally said, looking between Spencer and Brendon. “Leaning on the side of perspective taking.”

“And that means what?” Brendon asked darkly. He blamed his foul mood on his exhaustion with everything hospital related and what he was sure was Spencer’s irritation at the whole situation.

The doctor didn’t seem fazed.

“It means you can take on and express other people’s emotions like they were your own,” she explained. “It’s a bit of an odd case-normally, it develops much younger but for you, it exploded as an adult. That doesn’t mean you didn’t have it as a child, it just means that, for whatever reason, it didn’t manifest until now.”

“Great,” Brendon muttered. “So what do I do?”

“Not much to do,” the doctor actually sounded genuinely apologetic. Brendon felt a slight twinge of sympathy that had to come from her. “I wrote you a prescription for sumatriptan for the headaches and Xanax if you feel that panicked again. That’s the best you can do, I’m afraid.”

“Great,” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Can I please go home?” Brendon begged suddenly, voice quiet. “Please?”

“Yes, Brendon,” the doctor said with a glance at his vitals. “You’re free to go as soon as nurse comes in and takes the IV out. Here are the prescriptions.”

She handed the slips of paper to Spencer and walked out of the room. Brendon bit his lip against angry tears- for once, an emotion that was entirely his own. 

He didn’t want this. He didn’t ask for this. He reached out blindly for Spencer’s hand and choked on a sigh when he found it.

“It’s ok, Brendon,” Spencer said softly. “I’m not leaving. We’ll work this out.”

And that was that.

\--

Brendon rarely takes the Xanax. 

It makes him dizzy and tired and unable to do anything on his own and he hates that fucking feeling, so he doesn’t take it and Spencer doesn’t make him.

The sumatriptan, though, he takes that. Not every emotion causes a headache, but a lot of them do, like anger and fear and exhaustion and excitement.

The excitement one makes shows so fucking hard, so he takes the painkiller before and after the show, but the headache comes anyway.

It’s getting better, though. Brendon is getting better at recognizing the emotion and responding like it was his own, and he only gets that bad a few other times, like his first show back, and when his parents found out and thought he was on drugs (and they were so, so mad, Brendon was sick for days) and-

Brendon knows vaguely that Zack may have let it slip to Jon who obviously immediately opened his mouth to Ryan about what Brendon was dealing with. And he’s not _angry_ at Zack, at least, not like Spencer is, but he’s not happy, either. So when Ryan comes to give Zack something and ignore his and Spencer’s existence, but still finding it within his heart to laugh about Brendon’s “condition”, Brendon chokes on the malicious glee and doesn’t feel better for hours.

Even Zack kicking Ryan out and refusing to let him joke around about Brendon doesn’t help. He laid down in the lounge of the bus and tried not to shake too much, but it didn’t work.

Other than that though, Brendon _is_ getting better. He can even attribute who’s emotions are who’s.

Most of the time, anyway.

\--

It starts to get weird about six months after the hospital.

Brendon can’t really place what’s strange, so he tries to ignore it, but it never works.

He can’t even explain it to Spencer, which is unbelievably frustrating because he can explain _everything_ to Spencer.

Spencer always listens, always lets Brendon vent about whatever emotion is bothering him, and this is fucking the Actual Worst.

It’s just- he’s starting to get this _feeling_ , and he knows it’s not his, but he doesn’t know who’s it is or even what the emotion itself is, and he wants to punch something. 

It’s like- like warm water in a bubble bath or the feel of air on your face when you swing on a swing, or the swoop in your belly on a ferris wheel-and it circles tight around his heart and he has no name for it. He feels stupid trying to describe it, so he tries to let it go, but Spencer doesn’t let him.

“Like,” Brendon says, gesturing helplessly. He’s getting frustrated, so he takes a few deep breaths. “Like that feeling you get when you bite into a chocolate bar, or when I cuddle with Bogart and he licks my fingers, or when Bronx does the squishy cheeks thing?”

Spencer cocks his head.

“This is so stupid, I can’t-” Brendon babbles, trying to stand and leave, but Spencer catches his arm and pulls him back down. 

“Breathe,” Spencer orders, and Brendon obediently sucks in a huge breath. “Good. Now calm down. It’s not stupid.”

“I can’t-”

“I know what the feeling is, B, so just chill,” Spencer pokes Brendon’s hip. He waits for Brendon to breathe some more, then pulls him into a hug.

Brendon feels himself relax all over. He fucking loves Spencer’s hugs, they’re amazing, and he’s always so- so _lucky_ that Spencer is here. Above and beyond what he has to do for his “best friend” role. He burrows into Spencer’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Brendon whispers eventually. “What’s it called?”

Spencer grins, teeth bright in the lights of the dressing room. 

“Someone’s in _love_ , Brendon,” and Brendon thinks he sees self deprecation in that smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears, so Brendon focuses on Spencer’s words.

Oh.

Love.

That’s what that is, and yeah, it makes sense now, and it makes him feel warm and excited and he grins. But that falters into a frown as sadness mixes in with the love- deep, cool blue with the warm, rich red, and he looks up at Spencer.

“Why are you upset?” he asks, and the sadness grows. Spencer smiles at him, quick and fake, and Brendon wraps his fingers around Spencer’s wrist before he can escape. “Spence. What’s wrong, please?”

“Nothing, B,” Spencer says, hugging him again, swiftly. “I don’t know why I’m sad.”

It’s a lie, and Brendon knows it as well as he knows he won’t get an answer from Spencer, so he lets it go.

For now.

\--

“Dallon,” Brendon hisses. The bassist turns, confused, and comes when Brendon beckons.

Spencer is inside the gas station, buying Brendon the Red Bull he pleaded for, and now is Brendon’s chance.

“I need help,” Brendon tells Dallon seriously. “But first, I need an honest answer from you.”

“I can do that,” Dallon nods. “Shoot.”

“Are you- are you feeling especially in love with Breezy lately?” Brendon asks quickly, one eye looking out the bus window on the door to the gas station. Dallon considers.

“No more than usual,” he finally answers. “Why?”

“Because,” Brendon explains in a rush. “I’ve been feeling love, I guess, like _really strongly_ , and I don’t know who it’s coming from and when Spencer helped me figure it out, he got sad. So I need help figuring this out.”

“Hmm,” Dallon says, frowning a little in concentration. Brendon relaxes marginally- Dallon is a great dude for a lot of reasons, and one of the main ones is his total acceptance of Brendon’s empathy and complete willingness to help him with anything he needs.

“Well, you figure out who it’s coming from,” Dallon says finally. “I’ll work out why Spencer seemed upset- and now that I think about it, he has been kind of....down, lately.”

Brendon smiles gratefully. Dallon is amazing, seriously.

“Thanks, Dallon,” Brendon says, and Dallon nods just as Spencer climbs the steps into the bus.

“Red Bull,” he grunts at Brendon, handing him the cold can. “I’m not helping with the caffeine crash.”

“Yeah, you will,” Brendon smirks and squeals when Spencer pinches his side viciously.

\--

Operation Figure Out Spencer and This Dumb Emotion starts off super slow.

Spencer isn’t big on talking about his emotions, so Dallon’s progress is like a snails pace.

And trying to pin the emotion to one person is basically impossible because every time Brendon starts to feel it, there are either a lot of people around or the moment is inopportune for detective work.

He feels it at the most random times, too. In the bus lounge, where Dallon, Brendon, Spencer, Zack, and Ian sat sleepless at three am, telling terrible jokes and laughing too loud. On stage, when Brendon butters up the crowd while complimenting each band member on stage. In a restaurant, when Brendon turned on his puppy eyes to ask the waitress if she would _please_ extend breakfast hours just for them because they’d been traveling so _long_.

And once, when he was completely alone in the kitchenette, when everyone was asleep, as he sang ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ under his breath as he make coffee as quietly as he could.

That time, the emotion was so strong he had to stop what he was doing and sink to the linoleum, hand pressed hard to his heart as tears welled in his eyes at how fucking _strong_ it was.

Brendon starts to feel a little melancholy, because it seems like whoever is in love like this isn’t getting love in return. Brendon is reasonably sure it’s coming from one person, and there hasn’t been _any_ feelings of reciprocity and it just bums Brendon out.

Jesus, anyone this in love with someone deserves to be loved back and it breaks Brendon’s heart that he can’t figure out who it is. This poor person.

He tells Sarah all about it when she calls (and no matter what anyone-cough cough Zack- says, he and Sarah just Are Not Dating, ok? They tried, sure, but it was awkward and wrong and they both figure they’re better as friends) and Sarah is just as sympathetic as Brendon is. She suggests he ask subtly if anyone needs help with anything, and when Brendon rejects that, offers to straight up use her Womanly Powers to find the lovestruck soul.

“I knew there was a reason I love you so much,” Brendon laughs, but the glee is cut suddenly short as a vicious stab of misery rips through him painfully.

“Holy shit,” he chokes out desperately, and Sarah’s worry mixes in with the absolute devastation coursing through Brendon’s heart and he tells her he just can’t, he has to go, and hangs up.

It hasn’t been this bad in a while, jesus christ, and he collapses to the floor, curled up against the sobs wracking his body. He sort of hears Dallon call his name, and he chokes back a miserable scream. His hand clenches into a fist and he grits his jaw so hard he’s a little worried he’ll break a tooth.

His heart genuinely feels like it’s breaking into pieces and he cries out, the dam breaking as tears rush down his face and he _cries_. He thinks he might actually die from this, goddamn, and he wonders for a second who is this sad, who’s sitting somewhere in this much pain, and why, but then his heart actually twinges and he sobs desperately.

Dallon and Zack are hovering above him, he can tell, but they won’t be able to help at all. Spencer, he needs Spencer, and he tries to communicate this to them. Thankfully, his vague gestures and gasp of “Spen-” gets through to them and Zack tells Dallon to stay with Brendon and runs off.

Hopefully to bring Spencer back here, because Brendon hasn’t been this afraid since the night of the bar fight that almost broke him. He gasps for breath against the agonizing tears and Dallon is saying something that sounds vaguely reassuring and then Brendon is lost to the world.

\--

When he wakes up, he’s on the couch in the lounge. Dallon is sitting on the floor by Brendon’s head, and Zack is conversing urgently with someone on the phone. Brendon strains, but Zack’s words are too faint to be heard over the buzzing and ringing in his ears.

“D’llon?” Brendon mumbles, furrowing his brow against the bright lights. Dallon rummages on the table for a second before pressing something to Brendon’s face and-oh. 

His glasses bring the bus lounge into sharper focus and he swallows against his dry throat a couple times before looking around in confusion.

“Are you feeling better?” Dallon asks quietly and Brendon considers.

“Not really,” he croaks. “Feel like someone died. What’s going on? Where’s-”

He doesn’t want to say Spencer’s name out loud because Dallon looks like a painful combination of furious and terrified and if Brendon concentrates, he can feel that mix pushing at Dallon’s ribcage, so he pulls back quickly. He can’t handle any more emotion, it’ll be another hospital trip if he tries. He prays that he doesn’t pick up emotion anyway and focuses back in as Dallon speaks.

“We- we don’t know where Spencer is,” he whispers. “We tried to find him when you, you know. Had your problem. But we have no fucking clue where he is, and he isn’t answering his cell and all his things are still here, wallet, everything. He’s not in the venue. We’re checking around the city now but.”

“Did you leave a message?” Brendon feels his own panic rising up and Dallon must see it too, because he pushes ineffectively on Brendon’s shoulder.

“Don’t get worked up, please, Brendon,” he begs. “Try and calm down. We almost had to call an ambulance already. Breathe.”

“ _Spencer_ ,” Brendon emphasizes, eyes filling with tears again, this time his own. “Let me try and call him, please, where’s my phone? Dallon, _please_.”

“Ok,” Dallon agrees with a glance at Zack. “Ok, but you have to keep yourself under control. Ok?”

“Ok, ok, please,” Brendon pleads and Dallon places Brendon’s phone by his head. Brendon scrambles for it, fingers shaking, and it takes him a couple tries to put the passcode in. He manages eventually and scrolls through his contacts until he finds Spencer.

He taps _Spencer the Lego Dork_ and pushes the phone to his ear, listening to it ring and praying.

It rings four times and Brendon’s stomach twists as it clicks over to the stupid voicemail Brendon recorded so many months ago.

“ _Hey you’ve reached the phone of Spencer Smith and I am a huge dork_ ,” Brendon’s voice sounds breathless, giggly, and he hears Spencer’s protests in the background. “ _I can’t pick up the phone right now because I’m probably being a huge nerd or something so leave a message and I’ll call you back when the nerdiness has subsided. Bye!_ ”

He kept that. Spencer _kept_ Brendon’s stupid voice message and hot, fresh tears slide down Brendon’s cheeks as the voicemail beeps.

“Spence,” Brendon whispers. “Spence, please. Where are you, Spence? I need you. Please come back. Spencer, please, please come back. Please be ok. Please.”

Brendon’s voice cracks as he begins crying in earnest and Dallon gently tugs the phone away and whispers an addendum-

“Spencer, I don’t know what happened, but we’re going to find you,” he says firmly. “If you’re in trouble, we’re coming. If you’ve run away, we’re fucking coming so you better have the best excuse in the fucking world-”

“Don’t yell at him,” Brendon gasps for breath and tries to grab the phone. “Don’t, don’t!”

“Spencer,” Dallon repeats, holding Brendon back. “Come on, dude.”

With that, Dallon ends the call, and Brendon chokes back a sob and collapses back against the couch. Dallon rubs Brendon’s arms, where cold goosebumps have sprung up, and lets him cry.

Brendon stares at the ceiling of the bus as it blurs with his tears and wishes the love would come back.

\--

When Brendon slowly comes to again, someone has draped a blanket over him as he lies on the couch. He feels like he has a fever, both hot and cold, and the misery is still there, but it’s muted, pushed back by worry and concern.

Brendon recognizes that concern, the powerful fear, because he felt it that night he went to the hospital.

It’s _Spencer_ , and he scrambles to try and stand, to run to him, to make sure he’s alright. He gets caught up on the blanket for a moment, but then it’s off and he’s swaying a little unsteadily on his feet. He forgets, sometimes, how much strong emotions take out of him, but he ignores it and stumbles to the door of the lounge.

He sticks his head out, glancing around desperately, and seeing no one. The deep worry has grown stronger, though, so he knows he’s close, and he follows it towards the front of the bus, where he can hear voices now.

“-And you _cannot_ just fucking _disappear_ like that, you fucking _can’t_ ignore your phone, what if Brendon had to go to the hospital? What then?” Zack is _furious_ , and the emotion mixes with the worry and the pain and Brendon just wants a Spencer hug. So badly.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer sounds defeated and miserable and Brendon’s going to punch Zack in the face when he feels strong enough because Spencer probably had a good reason, ok? Leave him alone.

“I just couldn’t be around people,” Spencer says quietly. “I didn’t know Brendon was- I didn’t think- I wouldn’t have ever-”

“Spencer, shut the fuck up,” Zack snaps. “You just think of what you can fucking say to Brendon when he wakes up. You can figure out how you’re going to explain you being _gone_ while he _cried_ for you!”

A stab of sorrow hits Brendon in the gut and he shoves the door open and stumbles through. Both men look over at him, but Brendon runs to Spencer immediately.

“ _Spence!_ ” he chokes out and pushes his way into Spencer’s arms and clings. “Spencer, are you ok? Spencer!”

Spencer hugs Brendon tight and pushes his hair back. 

“I’m so sorry, Bren,” he murmurs, lips brushing Brendon’s ear. “I’m so, so fucking sorry.” 

“No, no, it doesn’t matter, you’re back,” Brendon whispers, pressing his face into Spencer’s shoulder. “You’re here.”

“You gonna explain to Brendon where you went?” Zack snaps at Spencer and Brendon glares at him.

“Shut up!” he yells, fighting the four different emotions in the room, halfway to an irritable mess. “Leave him alone, we can talk about it later, ok?”

He scowls over and Zack takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Brendon,” Zack begins carefully, but Brendon shakes his head.

“Spencer is here now,” he says finally. “So it’s ok.”

He sways suddenly, exhaustion hitting him like a fucking train, and Spencer steadies him.

“Come on, Brendon,” he murmurs. “Come on, you gotta sit down or you’re gonna pass out. Let’s get back to the lounge.”

Brendon nods and seizes Spencer’s hand, not relinquishing it at all. Spencer lets him and carefully walks with him back to the couch in the back.

“Sleep for a while,” Spencer suggests softly. “You’ll feel better.”

“No,” Brendon argues, trying to articulate how much better he’d feel if he could just sit with Spencer.

“Yes,” Spencer says firmly, pushing him down gently. Brendon goes, but doesn’t let go of Spencer’s hand, stubbornly staring at him until Spencer sighs and sits with him, letting Brendon scramble until he’s curled up beside him.

“‘Kay,” Brendon sighs, resting his head on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer pulls the blanket over Brendon as best he can, and then settles his arm on Brendon’s lower back.

“What happened?” Spencer asks quietly. Brendon curls closer.

“I don’t know,” he yawns. “I really don’t. I was talking to Sarah and we were joking around and everything was great and then, all of a sudden-”

Brendon swallows thickly. 

“It was agony, Spence,” he continues softly. “It felt- it was awful. I didn’t know it was even possible to feel that badly. Whoever it was- just. Fuck.”

“Was it sadness?” 

Brendon thinks for a second, then shakes his head. 

“No,” he says slowly. “No, not exactly. I mean, yeah, I guess it could be classified as sadness but it felt more like- like mourning.”

“Oh,” Spencer murmurs. “Oh, Brendon. I’m so sorry.”

“Spencer, don’t,” Brendon pushes ineffectively at Spencer’s shoulder. “You probably had a good reason, right?”

“I didn’t feel well, I needed air, and I went farther than I thought,” Spencer swallows hard. “And- if I had _known_ -”

“I know you’d never leave, Spence,” Brendon says, hugging Spencer as best he can at the awkward angle. Spencer squeezed him back, then gently pushes him to lay down on the cushions. 

“Try and sleep, ok?” Spencer’s voice is soft, and Brendon’s eyes are slipping closed but he doesn’t _want_ to sleep, he wants to be awake but-

“I’m not leaving,” Spencer reassures, as if he’s the empath. Brendon shoots him a lazy smile and something like warmth blooms in his chest. Before he can investigate it, though, he’s asleep.

\--

For once, emotions don’t wake him. The smell of coffee does, and Brendon grins as he scrambles to his feet.

He makes his way to the kitchenette and pumps his fist at the full pot before pulling a mug down from the cabinet and reaching for the glorious morning brew. 

“Not too much,” Spencer’s stern voice interrupts him. He throws a pout over his shoulder, but Spencer is basically immune to those now. Probably.

Always worth a try, though.

“Whyyyyy,” Brendon whines, dragging out the final syllable because he knows it annoys Spencer. Spencer rolls his eyes and pinches Brendon’s arm.

“You cannot mainline caffeine on a travel day,” Spencer tells him firmly, ignoring Brendon’s over the top, dramatic cries of pain. “No one on this bus will save you when Zack inevitably throws you out the emergency exit by noon.”

“You’ll save me,” Brendon says confidently, and Spencer rolls his eyes again. Fondness curls around Brendon’s heart, though, so he knows he’s right. As usual.

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Spencer says seriously. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Brendon smirks. “You lie. Admit it. You love me.”

And suddenly, Brendon is _really fucking glad_ he’d turned away to reach for the coffeepot again because out of nowhere, the feeling of love returned, full force. 

He falters his movements slightly and tries to catch the breath he’d lost when the emotion slammed into his chest. He swallows hard as his heart _pounds_ , and he barely hears Spencer’s retort.

“I will admit to no such thing,” Spencer’s voice reaches Brendon’s ears through what seems to he the thickest haze imaginable. “I’m going to shower. Seriously, two cups. That’s all.”

Brendon barely manages to nod vacantly and registers Spencer’s footsteps continue down the hall to the bus bathroom.

“Oh, Christ,” Brendon’s voice wavers. “Really?”

All this time. All this time Brendon had been wondering who could be so in love it was almost _painful_ and the answer had been sleeping two feet away the whole time.

And Brendon, the empath, the one that can sense your emotions almost better than you can, didn’t even fucking _notice_ where it was coming from. Didn’t _ever_ put two and two together and call Spencer out.

He just fucking let Spencer _pine_ when, if he’d known-

If he’d known, he would’ve kissed him until neither of them could breathe.

The realization doesn’t so much as hit Brendon as it crashes over him like a wave. Yeah. Yeah, he _wants_ that, he wants Spencer too, he wants so badly he can _taste_ it, and he presses a hand to his heart and breathes in shakily.

Alright.

He’s gotta do _something_.

\--

As far as Plans To Woo Your Best Friend Who Is Apparently Already In Love With You go, Brendon’s is fairly straightforward.

He’s made a list, a list of all the times he’s felt love bloom in his chest, and wrote down exactly what he’d been doing during those times, plus a few other tricks he has up his sleeve that he may or may not have used with success on other people. He’s going to replicate all of them around Spencer, and if he feels love, he knows he’s right and he can continue to step two.

Which is, right now, _grab his face and kiss him stupid_ , and Brendon refuses to acknowledge any flaws with it at all.

The first one on the list is Brendon’s singing. It seems a little egotistical, but he can’t deny that whenever he sung absentmindedly, his heart constricted.

Spencer is sitting on the couch, staring at the Food Network marathon. Brendon doubts he’s actually watching any of it, not if the glassy sheen over his eyes indicates anything. Brendon smiles privately, then lightly hipchecks the back of Spencer’s head as he walks by on his way to the kitchenette.

“Sorry,” Brendon says with a winning smile at Spencer’s huff and glare. Brendon’s heart does a weird floppy thing and Spencer’s frown loses it’s malice. He forces himself to turn away from Spencer and busy himself with the cereal, trying to look like he’s lost in the task. He takes a shaky, shaky breath (and he’s never been this nervous to sing, not ever, this should tell him something if he stopped to work it out) and begins the opening phrase of Three Little Birds almost under his breath.

“ _Don’t worry_ ,” Brendon’s voice wavers a bit. “ _About a thing, ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright._ ”

He tucks his chin to his chest fast when, almost in answer to Brendon’s song, his heart beats hard with adoration.

\--

 

Brendon finds it hard to continue his list after that.

Because, shit. Shit.

Now that’s he’s started, now that he’s actually doing something about this, he realizes how much he really does want to be with Spencer. In more than a best friends/bandmates kind of way. Now that he’s trying to pull Spencer close, he’s terrified he could be wrong.

That maybe it’s not Spencer after all. Maybe it’s someone else, maybe it’s a coincidence, and Brendon honestly thinks he won’t survive it if Spencer doesn’t love him after all.

Every touch, every giggle, every stupid joke is hard, it’s so hard even as the feeling of love blooms brighter and brighter in his chest. It makes Brendon taste bile because he can just imagine Spencer in love with someone else and-

He furiously wipes away a tear and glares at his reflection, bitter and annoyed. 

He’s being so stupid. He knows he is. Nothing is this much of a coincidence, and the signs are all there but-

But.

He knows he has no place to be sad about any of this, because Spencer has been suffering for so long that Brendon can’t really think about it. 

What Brendon needs to do, he knows, it suck it up and corner Spencer and talk this out until it’s perfectly clear what each of them feels, what each of them wants. But that’s so much easier said than done, and fuck. All Brendon wants is for this to be _figured out_ goddamn it.

A loud knock startles Brendon out of his pity party.

“Did you fall in?” Dallon’s voice is teasing. “C’mon, go have phone sex in your bunk, some of us have to actually use the bathroom.”

A quick, blinding rush of twisting jealousy makes Brendon want to vomit everything he’d eaten that day. He stumbles a little, one hand splayed on his stomach, which still churns.

“He’s not having phone sex, Dallon, for fuck’s sake,” Spencer’s voice is faint, but Brendon can hear how angry he sounded, how bitter and- damn.

The jealousy is _Spencer_. Spencer’s jealous! He’s practically _green_ with jealousy, Brendon can feel it. Jesus.

Brendon blinks at his reflection before opening the bathroom door and stalking past Dallon without a word. 

“Spencer,” he begins without preamble as he enters the lounge where Spencer is sitting crossly. “I wasn’t having phone sex, so you can go ahead and turn off the jealousy, it’s making me sick.”

“I’m not jealous,” Spencer mutters in a tone that suggests the exact opposite. Brendon rolls his eyes.

“You totally are,” Brendon informs him. “And it’s stupid. Knock it off.”

Spencer glares at him. Brendon sighs and carefully seats himself next to Spencer’s carefully-defended ‘brooding corner’ of the couch. He reaches out tentatively, his heart jackhammering in his chest in a fit of nerves that are, for once, his own. With a deep breath, he grabs Spencer’s hand and swallows against the rush of tenderness that seems to seep into his bones from the contact.

“What?” Spencer’s voice cracks. He hasn’t taken his (blue, blue, oh god they’re so blue) eyes off of Brendon since Brendon came into the lounge and Brendon feels more in a spotlight than he ever has before, including times he was _actually in a spotlight_ and he feels himself flush.

“Do you remember,” Brendon asks softly, lacing his fingers with Spencer’s. Spencer swallows hard. “The day I was trying to figure out what emotion I was feeling? And I couldn’t describe it very well, and I was getting so frustrated, but you understood me?”

“Yeah,” Spencer replies after a beat, voice hoarse. Brendon nods, mostly to himself.

“For an empath,” Brendon continues with a short laugh. “I’m not very observant.”

“You’re incredibly observant,” Spencer protests, but Brendon gives him a Look.

“I’m really not,” he says simply. “I would have known, otherwise, that the reason you knew what the feeling was is because it’s you who’s feeling it. I would have realized it immediately.”

“I-” Spencer says helplessly, but Brendon gives him a small, watery smile. 

“If I had realized,” Brendon finishes, voice so soft that Spencer has to lean forward to hear him. “I would have kissed you right then and there.”

There’s a long pause. Neither of them look away from each other and Brendon doesn’t need to be an empath to know what Spencer is feeling-it’s written all over his face, naked and open and exposed, and Brendon wants to kiss him _so badly_.

So he does, and he completely melts when their lips meet sort of halfway in the middle and it’s such an awkward angle but Brendon _doesn’t care_. He pushes forward, scrambing off the couch to rearrange himself in Spencer’s lap, sort of hunched to meet Spencer’s mouth. Spencer’s tongue flicks across his lower lip, testing, and Brendon whines high in his throat before letting him in. 

Spencer’s calloused hands find their way to Brendon’s face and cradle his jaw almost reverently. Brendon could die, he really could, but if he died he wouldn’t be able to kiss Spencer anymore so he pushes forward insistently instead and lets his hand tangle in Spencer’s hair.

“Does this mean the sexual tension is going to end?” Dallon’s voice makes Brendon squeak and break away from Spencer’s lips to bury his head in Spencer’s neck. He’s embarassed, but Spencer isn’t. 

“Go away,” Spencer tells Dallon calmly, and a rush of contentment envelopes Brendon. He sighs happily and presses closer. 

“I’m just saying-”

“Dallon, leave them alone, Christ,” Zack’s voice calls from the front of the bus. “Seriously. Give them some time, they’ve earned it with all the moping.”

Dallon laughs, and Brendon can tell he’s happy for them which is lovely but not exactly what Brendon wants right now, ok? Thankfully, Dallon seems to get the message and shuts the lounge door, laughing loudly as he walks away.

“Brendon,” Spencer whispers, and Brendon shivers as Spencer’s lips brush his ear in light, barely there touches. “Come on out, Brendon, c’mon.”

Brendon giggles into Spencer’s neck before darting his tongue out and taste. Spencer’s fingers flex on Brendon’s hips and Brendon’s giggles turn into a smirk.

“You seem excited,” Brendon says casually, making sure his lips are pressed firmly to Spencer’s skin. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Well,” Spencer says and Brendon’s heart leaps as Spencer’s _want_ mixes in with his own. “I had a few ideas.”

With that, Spencer’s hands find their way under Brendon’s shirt and words aren’t necessary anymore. 

\--

**epilogue.**

“Jesus fucking christ,” Brendon mutters, swinging his legs out of his bunk and stalking towards the lounge where someone (Zack, goddamn it, has to be Zack) is watching porn, which definitely wouldn’t be a problem except Brendon is trying to sleep and that’s a little difficult when you’re hard as a rock because of someone else’s horniness.

“Zack, for fuck’s sake,” he whines as he walks into the lounge but- no one is there. He looks around in confusion, but the empty room provides no answers, and his cock twitches as hot lust hits him. He presses a hand to his dick with a short moan and sighs shakily.

Fuck.

He can’t even fucking come, which is annoying as fuck, because he tried that and he just got hard again immediately. Whoever is so goddamn horny should hurry up and finish or at least come here and fuck _him_ so they can both sleep.

This is fucking ridiculous.

He basically has two options here- try and go to sleep with his cock hard as a rock and the desperate need for release practically consuming him, or be a total fucking creeper and troll around the bus until he finds and suitably yells at the mystery porn watcher until he feels better about his hard on.

Both those options _suck_. 

He sighs and resigns himself to an uncomfortable night when pleasure pools in his belly and he can hear moaning- not vocalized moaning, but moaning inside someone’s head and-

_Spencer._

Brendon almost trips over himself in his haste to get to Spencer’s bunk. His cheeks flush and he grins like a maniac as he reaches out to pull the curtain open.

The smile drops off his face when he realizes Spencer isn’t in his bunk.

Goddamn it. If Brendon concentrates, he can feel Spencer’s _mischeviousness_ under all the lust and he’s going to be _sorry_ if Brendon doesn’t find him soon. Brendon scowls and narrows his eyes, considering various places Spencer could possibly be. His gaze lands on the bathroom and he huffs, before walking over and hovering in front of the door.

“I swear to God,” he mutters under his breath before pushing the door open to find Spencer, his hand around his dick and grinning at him like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Finish,” Brendon manages to grit out, his own annoyance overshadowing the secondhand lust. “Spencer. Finish so I can _sleep._ ”

Spencer just raises an eyebrow.

“I totally would,” he lies smoothly. “But I’m just having so much _trouble._ ”

Bullshit.

“You’ve never had trouble coming before, not one day in your life,” Brendon glares. “And you know I can’t fucking sleep until you finish so I swear to fucking God-”

“I bet,” Spencer interrupts. “It would help me so, _so_ much if I could possibly- well, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Brendon declares, and Spencer grabs his wrist before he can turn to go. Brendon growls but Spencer ignores it, dragging him into the bathroom and shutting the door.

The lights are dim, and Brendon can just see the outline of Spencer’s face, the glint of his teeth, the shine of his eyes. His annoyance is fading now, pressed chest to chest in a tiny bus bathroom, and he bites his lip as Spencer lets his hips roll into Brendon’s.

“Hmm, I thought you were angry,” Spencer’s voice is amused. 

“You piece of shit,” Brendon retorts, but there’s no real heat to it, and he lets his head fall forward to rest against Spencer’s chest as he gasps desperately. Spencer laughs, low and dark, and his fingers slip teasingly under the waistband of Brendon’s boxers. 

“I was thinking,” Spencer practically purrs, and Brendon does not whimper. He doesn’t. “That I could finger you. That might help me along. You know.”

Brendon’s nails dig into Spencer’ s shoulders as those _hands_ move under his boxers until he suddenly isn’t wearing them anymore. Brendon’s hips buck against Spencer’s and they both gasp as their cocks brush.

“Please,” Brendon gives up, hips rolling forward again. “Please, yes, finger me, anything just- _please_.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Spencer grins, and Brendon hears the pop of the lube cap and this fucker totally planned this. Brendon’s going to have Words with Spencer. After Brendon comes.

Spencer slides his hands under Brendon’s thighs and lifts until Brendon is sitting on the sink, legs spread and shivering. Spencer isn’t helpful, really, not when he’s letting his hands run down Brendon’s sides and brush teasingly over Brendon’s cock. 

“ _Spencer_ ,” Brendon bites out and Spencer laughs a little but brushes his lube-wet fingers back behind Brendon’s balls to hover teasingly over his hole. Brendon groans.

“What’s the magic word?” Spencer teases. Brendon would glare at him if he had any spare energy.

“Don’t fucking play with me right now,” he threatens and Spencer bites his shoulder lightly before complying, sliding two fingers in right off the bat. Brendon arches his back and moans, but cuts it off abruptly when Spencer pauses.

“You have to be quiet,” Spencer says, voice dark and- _commanding_ , jesus, that shouldn’t be hot. At all. “If you make noise, people could hear you. If people could hear you, I’ll stop. And I won’t finish either. I’m a master at sleeping through my own hard ons. How about you?”

Brendon doesn’t say anything.

“Good boy,” Spencer mumbles against Brendon’s collarbone and Brendon shudders all over.

Spencer’s fingers are long and thick, callused from years of drumming, and they drag in all the right places. He crooks his fingers and Brendon has to bite his lip so hard he almost draws blood to prevent himself from making a sound. Spencer smirks against Brendon’s neck and Brendon pants desperately, hips pushing back against Spencer’s fingers.

“Next time,” Spencer whispers hoarsely in Brendon’s ear, sliding in a third finger. Brendon feels so full, so _good_ , and he works his ass back as best he can in the limited room. “Next time, this’ll be in a _bed_. And I won’t let you move, I won’t let you touch, I won’t let you come- not until I say. Hmm?”

Brendon clenches his jaw against another moan as Spencer does something twisty with his fingers. He’s so close, so _perfect_ , if Spencer would just do that maybe two more times, he could probably come at this point without a hand on his dick. Precome drips generously onto his thigh and he shudders when Spencer blows cool air over it.

“I wouldn’t just use my fingers, either,” Spencer continues, and Brendon swallows. “I can’t wait to fuck you, I wish I could right here-” he emphasizes that with another twist and Brendon’s eyes threaten to roll back. “But. This is good. Look at you.”

Brendon gasps, practically riding Spencer’s fingers now, and Spencer grins. 

“If I touch your cock, are you going to come?” Spencer asks and Brendon nods desperately. Spencer _hmmms_ and Brendon tries to encourage him by pushing his hips forward slightly.

“I guess,” Spencer concedes, not even sort of nonchalant underneath his facade. He wraps his free hand around Brendon’s cock and it only takes two good pulls before Brendon comes hard with a barely muffled moan. Brendon gasps against Spencer’s skin as Spencer’s lust courses through him again and Spencer scrambles, pulling his fingers out gently to grasp his own dick and then-

Brendon and Spencer groan in tandem as Spencer comes over Brendon’s stomach and they slump against each other, struggling to catch their breath. 

“Jesus,” Spencer murmurs first, pressing his lips against Brendon’s temple. “Goddamn.”

Brendon hums in agreement, tired and sated, and Spencer smiles, adoration filling Brendon’s chest until he’s grinning, too.

“Bed?” he asks through a yawn and Spencer kisses him quick before swiping at Brendon’s stomach with a towel.

“Yeah,” he says finally, and Brendon feels alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Gratuitous porn! *hands*
> 
> find me in my trash heap at smalltalktorture.tumblr.com


End file.
